Author's Note: I fixed all the grammer/other mistakes. Sorry, I didn't reread this one before I posted it.
The Darkling strode down the steps placing each foot carefully in front of the other. His eyes were focused on the tracker but Zayi knew from experience that it was usually the things the Darkling seemed uninterested in that he focused on the most. And his focus at the moment was on the mapmaker as she was pulled from the tent, still struggling even though she was probably aware it was pointless.
The Darkling does not like to let his prizes leave the vault.
Her heart was pumping to the beat of words caught in the back of her throat. There was a sun summoner here. But she would wait. The Darkling was at the tracker's side, head bent like an advisor, but the deep indents left in the fabric of the soldier's jacket sleeve told a different story. Zayi hoped the boy was cooperating. Terrible things tended to happen to those who disobeyed the Darkling.
It was less than a minute before the Darkling straightened up and patted the tracker's arm in solidarity. There was no emotion in his face save a small twitch at the corner of his mouth. The tracker, for his part, was only given away through a clenched jaw at the contact. Yes, Zayi would wait. Sobachka did not ask for the tracker, but he would be useful. One always needs more soldiers.
The other Grisha were all affected as their black cloaked leader strode through their ranks and out the front of the tent. As he passed her, Zayi felt as if the legs of a dozen tiny beetles crossed the back of her neck. Terribly unpleasant and attention stealing. She straightened her back, adjusted her kefta, and strode with false control to the tracker's side. The sea of red, blue, and purple did not part easily for her. They never did. For two years, it had not been her place to ask them to move for her. The girl in the grey kefta is meant to stay in the back.
And yet, today she was forcing her way to the front. To where soldiers and Grisha alike crowded to get an understanding for something Zayi knew they would probably never understand. The tracker, stuck in the middle of the masses, leaned heavily on his friend as he clutched new wounds. He continually asked for the gawkers to let him by, refusing to answer their questions. Something, Zayi figured, he would be doing even if he was in perfect health.
The crowd was not a wall but more a writhing animal on a slick coated floor. She was losing what little authority she had managed to fake with each passing second. A grey kefta was not wanted.
Finally, she stepped back. She would have to wait. First the tracker, then the sun summoner, and then Sobachka.
It was only an hour before the crowds dimmed, letting the tracker drag himself into the medical tent. His friend stayed protectively in front of the flapping entrance. His arms were crossed in defiance even though he would not have much say if any Grisha tried to reach the tracker. Zayi respected him all the same.
There was no more time to waste.
Zayi gathered up her kefta and spared no glance at the other Grisha she passed or the sad corner she had just deserted. Any longer and retrieving the girl would become more complicated than Zayi was prepared to handle. She wasn't even sure if she was prepared to grab the girl as it was.
The soldier stood straighter as she approached. Trying to appear more menacing, Zayi assumed. She stopped just short of standing on his toes and stared him straight in the eyes. This usually did the trick. She was the lost one, an undesirable. Most were terrified to get within touching distance of her much less look directly into her eyes. He was far braver than most.
Or maybe just uniformed.
"Do you know why I wear this color?" Zayi spread her Kefta, displaying the faded greyish blue that had become a symbol of her shame.
The soldier gave her outfit only the barest of glances. The last time someone had glanced that quickly at her kefta when she forced them to look, it had been because he did not understand why she cared. This soldier glanced quickly, she could tell, because he did not understand the difference between the grey and all the other colors.
"I am Zayi." She announced, trying to sound strong despite her closing throat. "The lost one. I'm sure you've heard of me. The king destroyed my amplifier himself and it seemed to have changed me quite a bit. I'm sure you've heard the stories."
His eyes widened only fractionally and he stayed in place. He knew the stories. There were several. Whether or not those stories were true on the other hand...
"He needs to rest. There is nothing you can do for him."
Zayi stretched out a hand, drifting slowly closer and closer to the soldier's chest until the inevitable moment when he flinched. She lowered her hand. "If you'll let me by, I need to speak with the tracker."
He hesitated for only a second. Just long enough for her to twitch her fingers skyward once more. Then he stepped aside.
Zayi drew aside the flap into the tent and made to enter but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. As she turned it was quickly removed. The soldier's eyes darted several places before landing on her shoulder. They were no longer on eye meeting terms.
"Don't...don't hurt him." He choked as the words stumbled out.
Zayi felt a slight flip in the pit of her stomach. So he was a close friend, not just a fellow soldier. She couldn't take another soldier with her, it was already risky enough as it was. But she wished she could.
The twitch at the corners of her mouth were unconvincing as a smile but she tried to look encouraging. "I may be able to stop anyone from ever hurting him again."
This seemed to be the wrong thing to say after just threatening inexistent power moments before. The soldier withdrew a step, eyes shouting louder than any words could have. Zayi took that moment to step through the tent's opening with a slight cringe. That couldn't have gone much worse.
Inside, the tracker was sitting with his back to her. He was bent over slightly with only his elbows showing on either side. Zayi immediately recognized what he was trying to do. Hugs from yourself don't solve problems the way a real hug can.
"And the question remains," the words fell as soft as feathers from her mouth and drifted to the soldier. "What will they do with her?"
She took several steps closer, slippers landing soundless on the dry earth. Or so she thought. The tracker's arms went to his sides, gripping the bedframe with both hands with visible strength.
"I assume they'll do exactly what they did to you," he said, voice hard. "They'll give her a pampered life with no worries and tell her she's better that the rest of us until she believes it enough to go where she is not wanted. Then she'll bug the hell out of a stranger just for the fun of it."
Zayi stood firm, now only two beds away, and clasped her hands behind her back. Sadness filled her mouth when she tried to speak and it took a few moments for her to once again work up a soldier-like courage. "Or maybe I've been used in the same way she will be used. Maybe I've bugged the stranger because I've learned that you will always be used, but some use you to help you and I know for sure the Darkling is not one of them."
He still did not look at her but his grip loosened until his hands hung limply at his sides. "So I should mourn?"
"You should fight." Zayi lifted her foot and took a careful step forward. The soldier did not lift his head. She continued toward him.
"Your saying I should go after her? Go into hiding if I manage not to be killed in the process." His voice was steady and Zayi got the feeling that he had already considered this.
She stopped in front of him, his head downcast, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm saying I can get her out and safe. If you trust me."
His head raised slowly, eyes fully taking in the color of her kefta in a way the other soldier hadn't. When his eyes reached her face, he did not flinch as so many others tended to do. His eyes met hers square on and she could see no fear in them when he opened his mouth.
"I trust you." He said, forcing her to take a step back as he stood. "But only if I get to come with."